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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711327">Hiatus</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimeRadiant/pseuds/PrimeRadiant'>PrimeRadiant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:47:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,479</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711327</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimeRadiant/pseuds/PrimeRadiant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story of Mindwipe and Vorath hiding from the world in a hotel. It doesn't go well.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mindwipe (Transformers)/Vorath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hiatus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vorath sat for a long time in his parked car. Raindrops drummed on top of the cheap metal roof. Waves of water slid down the windshield, blurring the sight of the long-stay hotel right in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His back hurt from slouching. He had a throbbing pain at the back of his skull. He tried rolling his shoulders and every time he did, he heard weird clicks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is that normal? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wondered. Lately, he had been struggling to remember simple things. His brain felt like mush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got out of the car and the New Jersey mugginess greeted him. He took out a briefcase and two six-packs of beer, lugging them under his arms and trudged towards the hotel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, a receptionist greeted him. “Hello there, Borat!” one of them said. He kept on walking, shuffling water into the lobby like a wet dog. “It’s Vorath, not Borat! One syllable!” he grumbled, but it was in a low voice and they didn’t seem to hear. He may have heard chuckling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No one says my name right on this putrid planet, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself. He made his way down the long hallway to his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been so different on Nebulos. To lead the Ministry of Science for </span>
  <em>
    <span>an entire planet! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now he was just a low-ranked biologist at a stupid biotech startup. It turned out that human DNA was </span>
  <em>
    <span>uncannily </span>
  </em>
  <span>similar to Nebulan DNA, but their genome sequencing and medical science were laughably primitive and largely hamstrung by bleeding hearts who cared about “ethics.” So long as he didn’t reveal too much of what he knew, he could be just competent enough and get paid until he was called back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>were called back. He and Mindwipe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered flying away with Mindwipe, and abandoning Zarak. Vorath hadn’t wanted to go, but once Scorponok had recruited Starscream, Mindwipe was </span>
  <em>
    <span>done. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“There’s no way I’m going to work with that traitor!” he’d said. And away they went into hiding, waiting for Starscream to be done in by whatever scheme he was planning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was six months ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vorath reached his room. The hallway lights were dimming and brightening, flickering a little. He fumbled for his keys after juggling his beer and his laptop. Everything was damp. The splintery wooden door popped open on a rusty hinge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His kitchen, to the right: sink full of dishes and a nostalgic tiny algae experiment that worked on Nebulos; his table, covered in papers, a stack of dog-eared math and computational biology books underneath; his floor, slightly damp from the air conditioning which always ran, the carpet aggressively abrasive under his shoes, scraping against his shoes as he walked in; his bedroom, rarely used as he usually fell asleep at his table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the giant Decepticon bat in the living room area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mindwipe took up the entire living room. He completely blocked the path to the outdoor balcony, and the blinds were closed anyway. There were four large TV screens instead of one. Cables of wires streamed from TV to Mindwipe and back. There was a small bean bag chair directly in front of Mindwipe where Vorath would usually sit and occasionally sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mindwipe himself had seen better days. His left wing was completely immobile, and the right one couldn’t stretch. His left speaker had popped off and had served as a snack table for some time. His bat claws had permanently dug through the carpet and into the floor and concrete slab underneath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bat head slowly turned to him. His bat ears lightly scraped the ceiling. “Vorath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mindwipe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vorath, I am hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Here, I brought you some beer.” Next to Mindwipe was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>beer-to-Energon </span>
  </em>
  <span>machine that consisted of some junk from Scorponok’s ship, a water cooler, and a lot of tape. It was extremely inefficient; 24 cans of beer every 3 days was required to keep him minimally alive, but his self-repairing systems were failing. Vorath cracked open a beer can and poured it into the machine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Beer and I have been waiting all day, Vorath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t. Name. The machine,” Vorath grumbled. “It’s just a converter to hold us over until Scorponok calls for us and tells us all is back to normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Beer </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>his name. Mr. Beer is here all day with me and you are not,” Mindwipe countered, his head turning back to the TVs in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s all this you’re watching now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Fault In Our Stars. American Idol. Perfect Strangers. The Office. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I recently purchased eight new internet connections and four more screens so that I can watch four screens with one eye and four screens with the other eye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vorath stopped pouring beer. “How much is all this going to cost?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Approximately 1500 human shanix per month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“$1500 per month!? Mindwipe, I can’t afford that and this hotel and your food on my salary!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you get more jobs so that I can scan for Autobot activity while I watch TV?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You idiot! You’re not ‘scanning for Autobots’. You’re just watching TV!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vorath, you have stopped pouring beer. Please resume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“AHH!” he screamed, a scowl on his face. He continued pouring beers until they were all gone. He then squeezed past Mindwipe to get to his bedroom and bathroom. He walked past the pile of Headmaster armor at the foot of his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw himself in the mirror. </span>
  <em>
    <span>When Scorponok calls for us, will I even be able to fit into my armor? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wondered. His pants didn’t feel right. The buttons on his shirt didn’t feel right. He hated the dress code at work. He patted his belly. The bones and organs in his body had been altered almost beyond recognition during binary bonding; what happened when that stuff failed or needed maintenance so far from Decepticons and their advanced science? He pushed it out of his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s this awful planet, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This planet with its disgusting food and awful weather that made him itch all the time and its awful diseases. Everything tasted so sweet here, and everyone talks like a fool here with their foolish TV and foolish screened devices.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He read news on his smartphone while in the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went back to the kitchen table and dug into dinner. He was a frequent visitor to a place around the corner that sold three burgers for $5.99. While he ate, Vorath tried to watch one of the many TVs. Mindwipe tended to watch many of the same things over and over, such as </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Illusionist </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Prestige</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or a show called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ghost Hunters.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vorath, look: I told you, these humans have mastered talking to the dead. I must continue scanning these programs for techniques to use.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously. I’m trying to eat. Don’t talk to me about nonsense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vorath, I watched every episode of every version of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sabrina the Teenage Witch. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I watched all of </span>
  <em>
    <span>I Dream of Jeannie.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I watched all of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bewitched</span>
  </em>
  <span>. These humans are mystical at their core. Perhaps I misjudged them. On your day off, I require that you retrieve a pack of Tarot cards for me--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> days off anymore thanks to you. It’s not happening.” On the TVs, episodes of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Touched By An Angel </span>
  </em>
  <span>flashed by. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Batman Begins.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vorath, I don’t believe you’ve seen this film. It’s on my top 10.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you would like that Batman movie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s Batman. A bat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a bat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>a bat. Like Ratbat. You’re bats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not a bat. Ratbat is not a bat. Batman is not a bat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What--how can you not see--you’re all bats!” He put his head on the table. “Mr. Beer must not be working; your brain isn’t right. Ugh, by the Golden Rings, now you’ve got me calling it Mr. Beer.” He opened up his laptop. He saw his own face in the dark screen for a moment and didn’t want to look at it. He clicked on a draft email.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The subject line read</span>
  <em>
    <span> URGENT URGENT URGENT</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Argh, not again,” Vorath said. “This has been sitting here unfinished for six months; how can it possibly be urgent?” He clicked on the email body, which read:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T LOOK INTO HIS EYES. DON’T. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>-Vorath</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Vorath froze in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vorath, do you want to watch </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seinfeld?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, uh, no, Mindwipe.” He slowly closed his laptop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did anyone tell you that you look like George Costanza, Vorath?” The bat head slowly turned to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vorath shook in his chair, his terror temporarily vanishing. He turned his chair so that he was facing the front door, away from Mindwipe. “Yes, you always say that. Now, listen! We need to talk. Have you been using your powers to--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vorath, sorry to interrupt. I’m receiving a transmission from the Internet: someone on a message board thinks that my claim of being a real Decepticon is fraudulent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You idiot! I told you to stay off of the Internet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet none of them are actually Decepticons--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay off Facebook, Reddit--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--and I don’t understand. This afternoon, I uploaded my bio-signature, an image of me, an image of you sleeping, our address, images of all your fake IDs--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vorath ran over to him, picked up a remote controller, and threw it at Mindwipe’s head, shattering it. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;What the fuck&gt;*** did you do?! You idiot! </span>
  </em>
  <span> Do you realize what you’ve done?! People will start showing up here, and when the Autobots find out--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The telephone rang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both froze. The phone rarely rang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vorath, don’t answer it!” Mindwipe said, his voice sounding more clear and lucid. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was it the sudden blow to the head? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vorath wondered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe--maybe I can throw them off, if they’re looking for us, maybe! I don’t know! I’m going to answer it!” He picked up the phone and heard a woman’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Cecillia Santiago. I’m an investigative reporter. You may know me from my YouTube channel </span>
  <em>
    <span>New Jersey Talks, </span>
  </em>
  <span>or my TV show </span>
  <em>
    <span>New York Talks, </span>
  </em>
  <span>from way back in the day?</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Vorath did remember her; he saw her coverage of humans wrestling Micromasters or Micromasters ruining his and Zarak’s energy plans. But what did she mean by “way back in the day”? That was only a few months ago!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you have the wrong number,” Vorath said, sweating profusely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m looking for...how do you say this? Boris? Vorz? Also-known-as Boris Smith? Also-known-as Barry Costanza? Also-known-as--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, uh, what do you need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love the accent. Can’t place it. Is that Russian? Italian? Anyway, I’d like to schedule an interview based on the shocking data coming off Twitter about you being a real-life alien and having a Decepticon in your living room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, we don’t want, I mean I don’t want--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, relax, we can talk it over when I get there.” Her voice was nonchalant. “This is a chance for you to set your story straight! I mean, there’s no way you’ve been living with a Decepticon for years and years in a hotel room, is there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vorath said nothing but swallowed audibly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I’ll be bringing over a security detail and some police, just in case! See you soon, Borat!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hung up. Vorath sank to his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it, Mindwipe. We’re done for. When they get here, they’ll see us, and you can’t transform, and I can’t even fit into my armor anymore. We’re sitting ducks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mindwipe turned off all his TVs. “I guess there’s no escape for you. Because we’re--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--binary bonded, yes. Whatever they do to you, they’re doing it to me.” He buried his face in his hands. “The woman said something about us being stuck here for years and years. How is that possible?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bat head turned slowly to face him. “Vorath. Look into my eyes--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Stop!” he tried to turn away, reach desperately for his laptop to type yet another message to himself, but it was already too late--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mindwipe’s left optic exploded with a large </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither said anything for a moment. Mindwipe’s other optic flickered. Then Vorath realized what had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>beer. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I couldn’t afford the good stuff, Mindwipe. You’ve been running on light beer. Not enough alcohol to convert into energon. Your higher functions have been shorting out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Vorath. I’ve ruined everything. I may as well tell you now: we’ve been here a lot longer than six months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean, it’s not 1990 anymore?” Vorath ran his fingers through his hair. “What year is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to tell you. Your brain isn’t ready for it yet. That’s how all this started, you know. You were terrified of the war and hid out here. I hypnotized you to calm you down. I’ve been hypnotizing everyone for so long: the front desk staff when we got here, the repairmen who fixed the wall as I crawled in here, the pizza deliveries.  We have a nice life here, Vorath.” At that point, Mindwipe’s other optic popped, and Vorath realized the sudden headache behind </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re lying! That’s not why you hypnotized me! You just wanted to watch TV all day!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither spoke for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could you do this to me? We’re bonded partners, Mindwipe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The binary bonding process is more subtle than we all thought. At first, we’re two separate beings. But over time, one of us is slowly forgotten. Reabsorbed back into the other, and even other people forget you exist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because you’re just me at that point.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I wanted to preserve you as you are before that happens, but I couldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but...Is...is there any way to…I thought we could delay that for a while...” Vorath trailed off, teary-eyed. For a moment, the fog in his mind lifted with painful clarity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid not, Vorath. But I promise that I won’t forget you. You would live for what, 70, 80 years? You’ll be a part of my mind for millions of years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Assuming the Autobots or humans don’t kill us. They’re on the way over and we probably have an hour, most likely less. I don’t want to spend it running or thinking about...what’s going to happen to me. To us.” Vorath sniffed, and turned on one of the TVs. “I know your optics are gone, but can you...see through my eyes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a way, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s watch some TV, what do you say?” He sat down on a bean bag chair in front of Mindwipe. If there were sirens in the distance, he ignored them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the one where George does something stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did anyone tell you that you look like George Costanza, Vorath?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure did, buddy. They sure did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***Translated from Nebulanese.</span>
</p>
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